Trying to Quit
by Shantih
Summary: A year after he's last seen Holden, Banky is trying to reconcile himself to the fact that his best friend will never love him back. But what will happen when Holden does show up...?
1. Mr Wise Guy Stumbles

When the clock struck five and the comics convention was officially over, the first thing Banky wanted to do was find some secluded bathroom stall and cry his guts out. He'd gone a year without seeing or talking to Holden, and it had been hell.

Holden had told him at their last meeting he knew Banky was in love with him. At first, Banky had freaked and stood to leave, but when Holden seized him and kissed him passionately on the lips in Alyssa's view, the way Banky felt about his best friend of 20 years all came down upon him in a rush that felt like a hangover.

No matter what, Banky had been telling himself for a year, I will not call him. He can think anything he wants, as long as it's not that his annoying faggot friend finally crawled out of the closet, begging to be fucked. If there was one thing Banky Edwards had left, it was his pride. But as the months dragged on and Banky stopped hoping for Holden to call, he realized it wasn't about fucking at all. Holden MacNeil was his one true love.

So when Holden had showed up at the convention, and they'd made eye contact – brief and electric – all the feelings Banky had tried so hard to suppress beneath his usual Mr. Wise Guy demeanor came bubbling back, stronger than ever. Banky didn't really understand what Holden had meant by all those gestures – did he want to be friends again or didn't he? But when Holden went directly over to Alyssa's stall without even stopping to say hello to his old buddy, Banky felt the last ribbon of hope he'd thought was gone flutter up in flames. All there was for him now was the line of fans looking through his books, wanting autographs. "Next," said Banky.

Having sold all his books and having returned the table to the coordinator, Banky strolled – limped was probably more like it – down the stairs of the building, and out through the revolving door with nothing but the clothes on his back and the wallet in his pocket.

"If there was ever a time I needed a smoke, its now," he thought to himself. Even though he'd been trying on and off to quit for months, he bought a pack of unfiltered Camels from the newsstand around the corner and lit up. It had been a month since his last, and the nicotine made him dizzy. He leaned against a brick wall near an alley with a sigh, feeling the tension dissolve. His eyelids felt heavy, and it was all he could do to keep them open.

"I thought you were trying to quit," said a familiar voice into his ear.

Banky's eyes snapped open to see none other than Holden MacNeil leaning against the wall right next to him. Oh Jesus Christ, the pain, it was like all the blood had been sucked out of his body at once. He wanted to jump in front of the oncoming traffic…thankfully, Mr. Wise Guy reappeared at just the right moment to save him from crumbling completely. He looked at Holden's nose and with what he hoped was his usual nothing-gets-to-me grin said:

"Quit, my ass. That's about as likely as you…"

For the moment words failed him, and he silently cursed. Looking down at the ground now, he felt Holden's warm hand on his shoulder and shivered involuntarily. He'd reconciled himself to never feeling that touch again.

"It's okay. You don't have to come up with a witty comeback this time."

"Take a rain check," said Banky, and this time he couldn't keep the quiver out of his voice.

When Holden caressed the side of his face, Banky felt goosebumps form all over his body. The urge to fling himself to certain death was gradually fading, but hope was still out of the question.

"You know," Holden slurred, "you know the reason I didn't talk to you in the conference today?"

Banky shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage, which wasn't well considering the old familiar scent of Holden's English Leather cologne was wafting around him. Had his old best friend been preparing for a date later on? The very thought seemed to send daggers through Banky's eyes.

"I didn't want Alyssa to see. I mean, she knows everything. You know…"

"Yeah."

"I didn't want to hurt her."

Hurt her? What in the hell could that mean? Holden had gone a whole year without calling, and somehow thought that saying hi to his friend would hurt her, this slut bitch? But just as Banky was considering another cig, Holden seized him by his flannel shirt and dragged him into the alley.

"Don't you see?" Holden whispered harshly into Banky's ear, holding his arms to the brick wall so he couldn't move. "I couldn't talk to you because I was afraid…"

"What? Why?" stammered Banky. Holden was maybe six inches taller than him and a good deal more muscular, and it dimly registered in some remote part of his brain that from the street this must look like a mugging, but he didn't care, didn't care anymore that Holden would never be his, cared only for the fact that Holden was less than two inches away from him, the scent of his cologne the only scent in the world.

"Afraid of this," Holden breathed, and with that he kissed Banky Edwards for the second time in their lives. It was more like an attack; Banky clung onto Holden as if he were drowning, while Holden viciously rammed him against the wall, devouring his mouth so fervently that lips seemed unnecessary. Banky ran his hands through Holden's dark hair, ran his fingers along Holden's closed eyelids, sensually memorizing every feature of his face. Memorizing how good Holden's strong arms felt, imprisoning his slim frame. As Holden's hand released one of his arms to grip his throbbing member, Banky put one leg around Holden's lower back and pulled him close, as if they were finishing a tango.

"I need to have you," Holden growled, and for once Banky felt no need to say anything.


	2. Catholic School Lessons

Most of that evening was spent in bed, at the apartment they had once shared. No matter how long it could have lasted, be it a millennia, Banky would still have wanted – needed – more of Holden. A gaping hole had been eating its way through his chest, and it needed to be filled. The long, hot, ten-minute kisses they shared, the tastes and touches they had never experienced before left both sweaty and wanting more. Finally, when they both got tired, Holden embraced Banky, once more making a cage out of his well-muscled arms.

"Why didn't you call?" Banky murmured, more asleep than awake.

"I was waiting for you. I wanted to see if you would forgive me." Holden seemed suddenly awake. He'd shifted himself into a sitting position. As he felt Banky's head nestled comfortably in his laps, he found he was growing hard yet again. Impossible. He wished this conversation could wait, but it couldn't. He lifted Banky so his head lolled against Holden's chest.

"Banky…you awake?"

"Mmm."

"No, I guess. Want me to make you some coffee?"

"Mmm-mm." Banky simply responded by moving his hand stealthily up Holden's thigh.

"When we're done, okay?" Holden held the wayward hand in his own, laughing, although this lust he felt for Banky threatened to burst the dams of his mind. "The reason I didn't call was because you left. Remember? Alyssa slapped me and she left. You and I were alone for a minute there. I thought maybe…but no, you left."

"I couldn't stand it," Banky said simply.

"I didn't realize how much I wanted you until you were gone. You know, like that old Joni Mitchell song. You don't know what you got til it's gone. I thought you hated me, but today I saw in your eyes that you didn't."

"Oh, believe me, I tried. Can't do it." Banky said half jokingly, half seriously.

"Banky?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you." It was not the first time he'd said it that night.

"Well," said Banky, "how do you mean? Platonically, brotherly love…or…erotic?" Banky stared into Holden's eyes, half-Mr.-Wise-Guy, half Mr.-All-For-The-Taking. That look drove Holden wild, and he knew he had to fuck Banky delirious right then. He flipped the young man onto his back, climbing on top of him, and positioned himself at his entrance. Holden leaned down until his lips were resting against Banky's ear.

"You ready?"

"I think."

Holden kissed the back of Banky's neck. Banky moaned as Holden entered him, tensing up and then relaxing until Holden was all the way inside him.

"You okay?" Holden asked, worried.

"It hurts." Holden started to pull out. "No. In a good way."

Holden built up until the sweet climax, and they both released at the same time, crying each other's names. When Banky collapsed into his arms, Holden kissed the sweat from his brow.

"Look at the things Catholic grammar school taught us." Banky laughed softly at this. He snuggled back into Holden and they kissed groggily until they both fell into a deep sleep, their lips touching all night long.


End file.
